


By Any Other Name

by Acadjonne



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: And Aziraphale knew him, But Crowley doesn't remember Aziraphale from back then, Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Gen, Mentions of the Expulsion of the Acadians (aka the Great Banishment or the Deportation), Sad Aziraphale (Good Omens), This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 18:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19932598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acadjonne/pseuds/Acadjonne
Summary: Yes, Aziraphale remembers Raphael. Quite fondly, in fact. Even with such a different form, even with those dark wings, even with the mark of a serpent. Even as ademon,Aziraphale dearly remembers Raphael.





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Once, in Another Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19814518) by [NimWallace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NimWallace/pseuds/NimWallace). 



> So I've jumped headlong into Good Omens. Watched the show first. Then bought the book. And ordered a French copy for good measure. I love these occult beings with everything I've got. Also I noticed people had the headcanon that Crowley used to be Raphael and considering Crowley states in the show that he created (at least some of) the stars, he was probably pretty high up there as an angel before he fell. Makes sense to me it'd be the one Archangel we don't hear of at all in the show.
> 
> This is in particular inspired by NimWallace's Once, In Another Time. Definitely check that out. Anyway, on with the fic.

Aziraphale remembers the Being standing next to him atop of the Eastern Gate of Eden.

He looked different, Before. He wasn't a snake, for one. Didn't have those slit yellow eyes. They were more of a brown sort of colour, with a sparkle like the twinkling of stars. Aziraphale remembers how they'd lit up as he'd watched his own creation, watches Alpha Centauri, explode into brilliant light and life. His hair was different then, too, a golden-brown, like caramel. It was much shorter then.

Yes, Aziraphale remembers Raphael. Quite fondly, in fact. Even with such a different form, even with those dark wings, even with the mark of a serpent. Even as a _demon_ , Aziraphale dearly remembers Raphael.

As he watches him from the corner of his eye, Aziraphale wonders what the Being's name is these days.

* * *

He really doesn't seem to recognize Aziraphale at all. Throughout the years, throughout all their meetings, he never gives any indication that he knew Aziraphale _Before_. 

_Crawly_ never really suited him. Crowley is a much better name, though Aziraphale still finds himself wanting to call him Raphael, thinks of him with that name when he's being absent-minded. He counts it down to luck that he never verbally slips up.

* * *

After the End of the World is averted, and after Adam restores Aziraphale's bookshop and Crowley's Bentley, with a few extra perks, Aziraphale keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. Adam, without knowing who he was or what his previous body had looked like, was able to restore Aziraphale's corporeal form. Surely, he'd have been able to restore Crowley's memories from Before, as well?

But Crowley doesn't act any differently at all in the Aftermath. If he were to have remembered something, Aziraphale is sure he'd be able to tell. He desperately _hopes_ he'd be able to tell, after more than six millennia.

Aziraphale worries, is the thing. He's known Crowley enough to be aware that he'd never willingly tell Aziraphale about Before. There have been a few times when Aziraphale even tried to coax him to speak, patiently, gently, with no luck.

He got close on one occasion. It was back in 1755, when they'd both been on the far coast to witness the arrival of denizens, deported to England from a colony previously in the possession of France. So many orphans stepped off those boats, some clinging to siblings young and old, and some completely alone. Not a one of them spoke a word of English. Aziraphale had spent most of the day in the cold, trying his best to sooth the children as he brought them to safe places. It didn't escape Aziraphale's notice when Crowley saved a small child's life. He was a young boy, likely of a year and barely able to toddle about on his own. He turned out to be the brother of a girl Aziraphale had been trying to console. She herself was the only surviving adult on their boat, aged only nineteen.

Once she'd seen Crowley holding the sopping wet infant, she'd let out a wounded cry of, "Edouard!" Tears streamed down her face as she took hold of the crying child, and she'd thanked Crowley so fast and so profusely that neither he nor Aziraphale really understood her anymore. After a minor miracle to calm them both, Aziraphale brought the girl and her brother to a safe place for the night. Crowley followed in the distance, being sure to remain out of the girl's sight for fear she'd attempt to thank him again.

Once Aziraphale had delivered them to safety, Crowley came closer. He'd asked if Aziraphale would sit with him for a brief spell, only to lead him to an open field nearby and promptly lay himself flat on his back. Aziraphale, mindful of his light-coloured and easy to stain clothes, took more care in laying next to Crowley in the long grass.

Crowley gazed quietly at the stars for the longest time, occasionally following some constellation or another with his finger. Aziraphale recognized them all as his own creations, from Before. Eventually, he noticed Crowley stopping on Alpha Centauri. After a brief moment, he spoke.

"You seem quite taken with them. The stars, I mean." Aziraphale closes his eyes. He really could have worded that much better. He opens them again when Crowley speaks.

"I suppose I am. They're quite lovely tonight, very visible," Crowley mutters.

Aziraphale asks, "is there any reason why you're so fond of them?"

For a long time, Crowley doesn't answer. Aziraphale asks again, finding himself hoping maybe Crowley will say _something_ at all of consequence.

Instead, he eventually gets a rather noncommittal answer. "Needed a hobby, I suppose."

* * *

Crowley's fondness of sleeping isn't something Aziraphale doesn't understand, more than it's just something he doesn't often partake in. Aziraphale hardly sees why he should be spending his time sleeping when he could use it productively to do some reading.

(Another reason Aziraphale doesn't sleep often is the Dreams. Whenever he sleeps, he Dreams, and when he Dreams, he sees Raphael. The memories of what his friend used to be, as sweet and cherished as they are, are also rather bitter. Aziraphale knows there's no way for Crowley to return to being Raphael, and after six thousand years, he doesn't want him too. He's grown far too fond of _Crowley_ , loves him far too much to ever want to go back now, even if they could. All he wants for is that Crowley could remember Before.)

Tonight, Crowley's asleep in one of Aziraphale's chairs, in the backroom of the shop. He's splayed out as much as he can be, in the form of a rather tall, grown human man, but looks rather comfortable in spite of it. Boneless, almost, as if there's nothing within his body to cause him any sort of trouble or discomfort. Aziraphale was reading himself, in a chair just across from Crowley, but once he realized Crowley was asleep he stopped reading. There's something so peaceful in Crowley's face when he sleeps, and Aziraphale finds it captivating, in a way. His own eyes grow heavy before he knows it.

What he sees in his sleep could be called both a dream and a memory, this time around. He sees Crow-Raphael, in his former glory, his golden-caramel hair and his twinkling brown eyes. They're focused straight on Aziraphale, a kind smile hiding in the corners of them. Aziraphale quite clearly remembers this moment. It was the last time he had seen Raphael before he Fell.

"Aziraphale," he says, fondly. Raphael always seems content to spend time with Aziraphale, be it while he works on the stars or even when they both have a free moment. Aziraphale himself, being quite new still, isn't quite sure why Raphael is so content, but he shares the feeling all the same. Besides, of the archangels, Raphael is easily the easiest to approach, and the easiest to speak with. Lucifer seemed rather difficult to approach, before he Fell, Gabriel is quite rude, and Michael is entirely terrifying. 

"Raphael," Aziraphale returns. He's come to say goodbye, or at least something similar to it. Aziraphale is to be sent to guard the Eastern Gate of Eden, once the Almighty begins on her project of The World. He doesn't know when he's to return to heaven. He will miss his friend dearly.

Aziraphale knows, though, that this is not his present, though he relives it in his sleep. The final words he'd spoken with Raphael, the quick grasp of their hands together before Aziraphale needed to rush off to obtain his flaming sword. How Raphael had called out well-wishes to Aziraphale as they parted. Whenever he relives this memory, he dearly wishes hugs had been invented by then.

(When it comes down to it, it likely wouldn't have made a difference. Even now, Aziraphale hasn't ever hugged Crowley either.)

The end result is always the same. Once the memory has played out, Aziraphale wakes, and quietly begins to yearn. There are tears in his eyes which he tries to keep at bay, but fails, his breaths hitching as they fall. Despite his attempts to stay quiet, his crying is quite audible in the quiet backroom of the bookshop. Aziraphale can see Crowley begin to twitch, the more sound escapes him.

"Angel?" He asks, and Aziraphale swallows a noise. He takes a deep breath to try to compose himself.

"Yes, Crowley?"

When he looks up, Crowley is looking at him, his yellow eyes seeming to glow in the faint candlelight. He looks quite concerned, as well Aziraphale would expect him to. After all, in six thousand years, this is the first time he's seeing Aziraphale cry.

"Are you alright, angel?" Crowley asks. Aziraphale nods.

"Yes, I'm quite alright. Just some pesky memories."

Crowley doesn't look placated. "Memories? Must be quite the nasty memories to leave you crying. Are you sure you don't want to talk about it?"

Aziraphale shakes his head. He's more or less composed now. "I'm sure, I'm quite alright. Bittersweet, really, is all it is. Just miss an old friend is all, really." Every fiber of Aziraphale's being seems to be splitting in half at this moment. Part of him wants so badly to tell Crowley everything, to come clean about what he knows. The other part of him dreads even the possibility. 

In the end, he doesn't say anything on the subject. It doesn't matter who Crowley was Before. He's still here now, still such dear friends with Aziraphale, and entirely safe from further harm from Heaven or Hell. Aziraphale offers his hand to Crowley, the same way Crowley did to Aziraphale all those years ago, Before. Crowley takes his hand, and Aziraphale squeezes. Crowley squeezes back.


End file.
